


Long Con

by Prodigal_anon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cheating at Cards, Gen, M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2785007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prodigal_anon/pseuds/Prodigal_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Benny unwind with a card game after a rough hunt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Con

**Author's Note:**

> Tagging it as Dean/Benny because there's the slightest faintest hint of pre-sexual tension, but this is mainly a fic about bros being bros :)

Dean showers forever, idly re-soaping himself over and over, letting the water run over him until it turns cold, because Sam isn’t here to hog the hot water himself with all his girly hair-washing needs, and because it gives Benny time out in the other room to collect himself and – well, drink his supply of blood, probably.

They’d been out chasing a Shtriga for the better part of a week, part of Benny’s bid to join in the fun of hunting monsters again. Running his bakery satisfies him, for the most part – and satisfies Dean every time he stopped by – but Benny occasionally still gets the itch to just hunt things, bad things, and take them out. So the two of them had rolled out, leaving Sam to his boring research on another thing, because that’s what Sam does and anyway Sam and Benny are still kind of weird around each other.

Except that this Shtriga had taken a while to find, and then it had turned out to be a freakin’ nest of them, which was news to Dean that they even do that, and it could have gone south in a hurry but for Benny’s presence since he had no life force to absorb and it threw the Strigas’ tactics. Benny guarded against the shrieking monsters so Dean could snipe them with iron rounds, but in the process the vampire took a number of hits that tore big nasty chunks out of him. He was reeling all the way to the Impala, and quiet the whole ride back to the motel, though he assured Dean it would be fine as soon as he had a moment to “freshen up,” as he put it lightly. From the moment they got in, he’d made a beeline for the mini fridge that was stuffed with Dean’s beer and little bags of blood, and Dean had excused himself to the bathroom, not particularly wanting to watch.

So now Dean has cheap motel soap washing away the stink of Shtriga and smoke while Benny guzzles blood, and Dean is generally okay about it. He could do without the horrible damage done to his friend, but ultimately they’re both in good shape and successfully did a hunt together post-Purgatory and that puts him in a good enough mood that he sings a few lines of Aerosmith, earning a muted laugh from the other side of the door and an irritated pounding on the wall of the next room.  
He walks out with only a towel on, not even thinking about it, still humming the song. And then freezes as he realizes he was about to change into his clothes with Benny there. Like it was just Sam, like it didn’t matter. 

Benny quirks his mouth wryly. “Took you long enough. You’d better have left some hot water for me, brother,” is all he says. His shirt is off and he still looks like shit, pale and drawn, but at least the gaping tears in his flesh are gone and a couple of empty bags are in the trash basket. 

The vampire heads into the bathroom. “Ordered a pizza,” he says as he shuts the door, leaving Dean in the room to pointedly not think about how comfortable he’d been walking out there wearing almost nothing in Benny’s presence.

The pizza comes while Benny’s in the shower, and Dean signs for it, wondering what card Benny used. Sam calls while Dean’s dragging out the cheap shitty table for the pizza, pissed because Dean forgot to check in. 

“Yeah, we’re fine. It was messed up though – turned out to be a nest of Shtriga, about a half dozen of them – dammit, Sammy, don’t yell in my ear, I know! I didn’t know they did that either obviously. It was fine, Benny and me handled it. How was your – thing, whatever it was?” He pauses, listening to Sam’s huge exasperated sigh. Benny wanders out, fully dressed in clean clothes.

“Urisk, Dean, it was a urisk. It’s not that hard to remember,” Sam admonishes him.

“Right, yeah. So how’d that turn out?” Dean fishes around in the fridge for two beers.

Another sigh on the other end of the line. “The people I interviewed all said that it – well, basically they confirmed what I’d already guessed. It’s just – lonely, I guess. And said it wanted to talk. And when everyone freaked out and tried to run away, it got pissed off and tried to kill them.”

Dean grins. “An emo teen fairy. This one’s right up your alley. You can talk to it, about all the sad feelings in its heart.”

A huff of annoyance. “Dean, it’s not – it’s an old and powerful creature, it can – ”

“I know, I know…” Dean cuts him off, waving his hand dismissively though Sam can’t see it. He turns to the table again and sees Benny fiddling with the dimmer on the overhead light, wincing a little at the brightness until he gets it dim again. He still looks like shit, but no worse than Dean probably looks. Dean sets down the beers. “Me and Benny’ll probably be back tomorrow night. We’re just gonna look around again tomorrow to make sure we didn’t miss anything and then head out. Then we’ll help you with the Feelings Fairy.”

Sam sighs again. “Okay. Be careful. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Dean says goodbye and hangs up, then grabs a slice of pepperoni without bothering to look for a plate or napkin. He’s picking up the remote with his other hand, planning to watch whatever’s on the tube, when Benny tweaks his side, making him yelp and twist away. 

Benny smiles slightly. “Sorry, brother. You mind leaving it off though? The light – well, I’m not a hundred percent yet, you know?”

Dean feels weirdly flustered by the tweak and his skin prickles with awareness of the touch, but Benny’s words make him feel bad again about how hard Benny got hit by the Shtriga, while defending him. “Yeah, no, it’s fine, we can just eat and… uh… talk.” It sounds awkward as hell even as he’s saying it.

Benny chuckles and produces a deck of cards. “Well, if you can eat with one hand and play with the other… it’s no ‘Doctor Sexy,’ of course, but it whiles the time away. Assuming you know how to play, that is,” he adds, raising an eyebrow, like Dean hasn’t spent the last fifteen years extracting money from men using that exact tool of destruction Benny’s holding in his hands.

Dean grins and falls into his chair, stuffing half his slice in his mouth at once and washing it down with a beer. THIS is what he lives for.

“Your funeral, fangles!”

An hour and a half later, Dean has run through the spectrum from surprised to suspicious to openly accusatory. He hasn’t won yet and that’s IMPOSSIBLE, okay, because he’s GOOD at this and there is no way that Benny, who spent fifty years running around Purgatory not playing cards, can beat Dean Winchester, who’s been doing this on the regular for years.

Dean holds his hand out, scowling. “Gimme the deck.” 

Benny looks far too amused for his liking. “Aw, sugar, you think I’m cheating?” 

“I’ve been doing this for too long not to smell something suspicious. Hand it over,” Dean says stubbornly, and then after too long a moment, he adds: “And don’t call me sugar.”

Benny’s grinning like a shark as he hands over the deck. “Sure thing, sweetheart. Have at it.” 

Dean rolls his eyes as hard as he can at him and inspects the deck closely but still can’t find a damn thing off about it. No notches, no different weights, nothing. He wrathfully shuffles them and deals again, definitely NOT sulking as he ignores the smirk on Benny’s face. 

“I know you’re cheating, you dick, even if I don’t know how. Yet. I’m watching you, this time, and when I figure out what you’re doing, I’m going to make you bake me a different flavor of pie for every day of the year.” 

Benny shifts casually in his seat, unbearably smug and pleased with himself. “You don’t live as long as I have without picking up some skill. Not your fault you’re still a kid, sweetheart.” And then he reaches over to ruffle Dean’s hair and that is IT.

Dean shoves the table aside, sending cards everywhere, and flies at him. Momentum hits the vampire hard enough to knock him to the floor with a mild but surprised oof.

Unfortunately that’s his only victory. The 6-foot, 200-pound vampire doesn’t go down easy. Dean’s no slouch, he’s got more than a little muscle to him, thank you very much – but Benny is a bear, and he has his (cheating) vampiric strength as well, and so he flips Dean as easily as he might a kid, and has Dean’s face pressed down into thirty-year-old carpet that has fortunately been shampooed recently from the smell of it, while Benny’s huge mitts press onto Dean’s forearms over his head and the rest of him sits heavily on his legs. 

“This is BULLSHIT,” Dean snarls, muffled, into the floor.

“Thought you made a living doing this sorta thing? Hunting lil ol’ vamps like me?” Benny asks conversationally. Dean can hear the smug grin in his voice. “Hell, sugar, I didn’t even break a sweat. No wonder you needed my help so bad.”

“It’s because you’re cheating!!” Which doesn’t make sense and he knows it but he’s not backing down from a breach of logic. “Cheating asshole!” 

“Now how is that supposed to make me feel?” Benny asks in a faux-wounded voice. 

“Like the bitch you are! Now get your heavy fat ass off me!” Dean struggles pointlessly; Benny’s got him pinned good. 

Benny chuckles and reaches down and feels against Dean’s waist, where his cell phone is shoved in a jacket pocket, causing Dean to twitch again. Benny plucks out the phone and twirls it just in Dean’s limited line of vision.

“Maybe I better text your little brother, tell him we’ll be here a little longer. As long as it takes for you to apologize for all these terrible things you’re saying.”

“Better download a game or two while you’re at it because you’ll be waiting a while,” Dean insists rebelliously. Defiance to the end is the Winchester way, after all.

“Hmm. You could be right.” Benny sounds thoughtful now, which sends danger alerts to every nerve in Dean’s body. The vampire taps the phone gently against Dean’s ribs, making him flinch slightly and tense, before he purposefully places the phone on the floor and slides it away. 

“Nah. I think I can come up with a way to speed the process.” And with that, Benny gently runs his fingers along the curve of Dean’s waist, the touch light and questioning.

Dean gasps and then clamps down, gritting his teeth and willing himself not to react. “Don’t you freaking dare, Benny.” He is proud of how his voice doesn’t even tremble, though the rest of him is starting to.

Benny walks his index and middle finger up his ribs and Dean shifts involuntarily, digging his fingers into the carpet. “Don’t I freaking dare… what?” Benny sounds predatory the way he hasn’t since, well, maybe since never. Dean half-expects him to start whistling “In the Hall of the Mountain King” like he does when he’s going in for the kill.

“Not falling for it,” Dean informs him, feeling his feet start to twist against each other, and forces himself to stop. “Just – ah – just get off before you crush me for – cut it out!!” His voice goes higher at the end and he curses himself.

“Something bothering you, sugar? Sweetheart? Darlin’?” Benny’s voice is mocking. “Were you hoping I didn’t notice how jumpy you get when I was doing – this?” He wiggles an index finger between two ribs and Dean gasps again. “Or this?” He pinches at Dean’s waist and Dean chokes on the weird noise he makes. “Or.. this?” Abruptly he scampers his fingers up to Dean’s armpit and begins scribbling them in the hollows in earnest. 

Dean bucks and barks startled laughter, and begins struggling hard. “B-beh-henny, you sh-shit!! F-fuh-fuck, stahahahaahhhppitt!!”

Benny laughs at him and starts moving his fingers everywhere he can reach, tickling Dean without mercy. “Aw, darlin’, you sweet ticklish kid! You’re screwed now, brother!” And that voice saying those words while the fingers attack every place they think will get a reaction – it all finally does Dean in and he starts giggling helplessly, wriggling as much as he’s able to try to get away from Benny. But he can’t, he’s screwed just like Benny said, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

The vampire gloats as he takes Dean apart. “Bet you’re sorry now, aren’t you? For calling me a cheater and calling me a fatass?” he asks as he drills his fingers into the hollows of Dean’s armpits before spidering them over and around his neck.

Dean yelps, giggles and snorts, still bucking desperately, his feet kicking uselessly behind him. “Scr-ahahaHAHA, screw y-hoo!” His defiant challenge is wrecked as Benny scribbles up and down his back, then focuses his torment on his lats.

“Still talkin’ shit? Guess I’m not hitting the right spots…” Benny muses, and then tugs at Dean’s shirt before slipping his hand between the hunter’s now-bare belly and the floor, tickling ruthlessly at the soft flesh there and snickering when Dean squeals. “Where’s the sweet spot, sugar? Where’s the spot that’ll make you scream? Is this it?”

Dean just laughs helplessly and shakes his head. His face is red, partly from the breathlessness but equally from the embarrassment at how completely Benny is dismantling him. He can’t even summon the air to protest anymore; he can only laugh and make various strange noises as Benny finds and categorizes new ticklish spots.

Benny tickles his belly for a short eternity more before abruptly moving up, still under Dean’s shirt but attacking his armpits again, switching back and forth from one side to the other and making Dean wriggle and howl. “Maybe it’s here? That got you good before, yeah?… Nah, that’s still not the right spot. How about…” 

The fingers creep down Dean’s sides, bringing panic with them as they edge towards their next target. Dean gasps and swallows, trying to form words. “Ben-benny, n-not, not th-there, shit, you’ll k-k-ill me, get off!!!” 

“Not here?” And Benny doesn’t wait to hear the protest but instead just grabs Dean’s hip, alternating skittering light touches with electrifying digs into the center of Dean’s hipbones, switching one side to the other, and Dean screams, spine going rigid and collapsing into silent laughter, punctuated by whistly gasps as he sucks in air to laugh more.

He’s running out of steam now, almost gone limp on the floor, twitching still but unable to struggle as much and finally running out of air. Benny slows almost to a stop, lightly dusting Dean’s skin, not quite tickling but keeping him giggly and on-edge while he catches his breath. 

“Well, that was fun, wasn’t it darling?” Benny coos soothingly, still lightly poking and stroking Dean’s hyper-sensitive skin. “Come on, you got anything you want to say to me?”

Dean hiccups and giggles. “F-fine, you a-hahass… I’m s-sorry I ca-hah!! called y-you-hoo a cheater. Ahahand a fatass.”

Benny’s fingers linger casually by Dean’s hip. “And for hogging all the hot water?”

“Yes fine I’m sorry you dick!!” Dean blurts out hurriedly, ready to say anything at this point.

Benny laughs and leans over to, unexpectedly, place a light kiss on Dean’s flushed cheek. “All right, I guess you’ve learned your lesson.”

Dean rolls over immediately as he feels Benny’s weight leave him, curling up into himself and letting his giggles fade while hiding his horrible blush. Because now that his thoughts are coming back to him, he’s pretty sure he actually enjoyed that. Because, see, no one ever does this with him. No one ever just throws him around and tickles him till he almost cries, until he’s begging, and it doesn’t matter because it’s fun and Dean knows Benny will stop before he goes too far. It’s fun, and he doesn’t have to be in control of it, and that’s… addictive. 

But he wouldn’t admit that to Benny for love or money. Embarrassing enough how ticklish he still is, there is no freaking way he’s going to admit to liking it.

Fortunately Dean is spared from having to think of something manly to say in the aftermath, because he feels Benny’s boot lightly prodding him in the butt. 

“The cards were marked,” Benny says, and it takes a few long moments for that statement to turn around in Dean’s frazzled brain to make sense, and then he whips around to scowl, red face and breathlessness be damned.

“I KNEW it. You cheating SHIT!” But he’s too worn out now to work up a good fake rage, so he just tosses a nearby sock at Benny, who deflects it easily. Dean slumps back, on the floor, still frowning. 

“…how? I checked those cards! I didn’t see anything on them!” He picks one up now, to peer at it closely.

“I altered ALL the cards, but only changed the color on a few, so they still look uniform,” Benny explains. He pauses while Dean heaves a huge noisy sigh and flicks the card away, and then the vampire grins. “You probably would have seen the difference if the light was brighter. Vampire vision, you know.”

Long con, Dean thinks as it sinks in, remembering the way Benny had winced and turned down the lights, remembering how sorry Dean had felt for the son of a bitch, and with a roar he launches himself at his friend again.


End file.
